


I'll take your hand, then your worries too

by thefaceofno



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, surprise exr! even I wasn't expecting that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3262331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefaceofno/pseuds/thefaceofno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt 'A coffee shop au – preferably with Combeferre as the ridiculously hot barista and Courfeyrac as a love struck customer who doesn’t even like coffee that much'</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll take your hand, then your worries too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelastedisonian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastedisonian/gifts).



> title from just one dance - caro emerald 
> 
> happy valentines day(ish)!

Drunk Courfeyrac is an _asshole_. Sober Courfeyrac is an asshole too, but drunk Courfeyrac is the worst kind of asshole, because drunk Courfeyrac can see Combeferre, the owner/barista in his favourite coffee shop, making out with a dude inside the shop.

Drunk Courfeyrac is also falling over, straight into and through the door, and landing on a heap on the floor. He looks up, and drunk Courfeyrac is even more of an asshole than he thought, because Combeferre has stopped making out with his (very handsome) kissing partner, and they’re both staring at Courfeyrac. Now, sober Courfeyrac is still an asshole, because sober Courfeyrac turns up at Combeferre’s coffee shop every day, even though he doesn’t really like coffee that much.

Courfeyrac in general is an asshole. And very self-deprecating.

He decides to rectify that immediately, namely by getting the fuck out of there.

“Courfeyrac?”

“Leaving, don’t worry! Get back to what you were... doing.”

“Are you okay? You fell pretty hard.”

Oh god, now Courfeyrac is even more of an asshole, because Combeferre is taking his hand out of the guy’s hair, and the other off of his ass (go Combeferre!) and coming over to Courfeyrac, looking all concerned. Oh no. Sober Courfeyrac is going to hate drunk Courfeyrac for this.

“Yes! I’m fine! I was just..” Courfeyrac pulls his mobile out, and nearly drops it on the floor when it doesn’t even turn on. “Out of battery.”

“You were just out of battery?”

“Oh, I mean, my phone’s out of battery.”

Combeferre’s date pulls a chair out and falls into it, sighing something that sounds lot like ‘emotionally detached idiot’ but Courfeyrac is probably too drunk to process anything properly, especially when Combeferre is looking at him with that concerned expression that makes his cheekbones look _incredible_.

“Can I call you a taxi?”

“Have I told you lately that you’re probably a hero?”

“Only twice on Tuesday.” Combeferre says, and his mouth twitches up into a half smile. Courfeyrac might whimper a bit. Thankfully, Combeferre’s already walking away, and Courfeyrac’s pretty damn grateful for that too, because Combeferre’s wearing his _date jeans._ Damn.

Combeferre’s date noticed the date jeans, too. Great, now Courfyerac feels awful again.

“Sorry I messed up your date.”

Combeferre’s date grins. “You didn’t do too much harm.” He winks at Courfeyrac and gives Combeferre a very obvious appreciative once over as Combeferre walks back. A blush spreads over Courfeyrac’s cheeks as Combeferre’s date’s hand comes to settle on Combeferre’s ass. It’s a very nice ass, Courfyerac doesn’t blame him at all. Even if his palms are tingling a bit.

A sudden vision of Combeferre holding him up, hitching Courfeyrac’s leg over his shoulder and pulling Courfeyrac’s hips towards him with a hand on his ass and a hand on the curve of his waist takes Courfeyrac’s entire focus for a second.

Great, now his palms, his ass and his entire left side are tingling.

He makes a mental note to ask people out when he’s sober, next time.

Combeferre watches Courfeyrac’s gaze go unfocused, then his entire face, neck and ears go _painfully_ red. He can almost feel the heat radiating off Courfeyrac's cheeks. He looks at his date, whose hand has made itself comfortable in his back pocket, and wishes his nose was a little more curved, his hair a little darker, his skin a little more tan.

Courfeyrac is so good at _screwing up Combeferre’s plans._ This date is meant to make him stop pining over Corufeyrac, who brings his devastatingly handsome boyfriend- Enjolras? – for coffee at least once a week. Instead, he picked someone who looks far too similar to Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac has literally crashed the date, and completely ruined Combeferre’s hope that having sex with this guy is going to help at all. He knows that all he’s going to be thinking about is the way the blush unevenly colours Courfeyrac’s cheeks, and his ears are still red.

Combeferre’s date bumps Combeferre with his shoulder. “How long ‘till the taxi gets here?”

Until we can go fuck, Courfeyrac translates in his head.

“Five minutes? Not very long. It won’t take long to walk to my place.”

Courfeyrac snorts, and Combeferre’s date’s eyebrow raises.

“He lives above the coffee shop.”

“Oh! I did wonder why we were breaking into a coffee shop when we literally just ate.”

Combeferre grins, and pushes a hand through his hair. The movement pulls up his dress shirt, revealing a hipbone and a dark trail of hair. Courfeyrac is pretty sure both him and Combeferre’s date whimper this time.

Combeferre starts talking about owning the chain of coffee shops, and Courfeyrac zones out again, nearly asleep. The next thing he knows, Combeferre is pushing a bottle of water in his hand, and pulling him to his feet. His hand lands on Combeferre’s bicep, which is a lot bigger than he expected. He squeezes a tiny bit, trying to write it off as getting his balance back, and is very pleased when Combeferre tenses the muscle to help support him. It’s a very nice bicep. Combeferre is very nice.

“Come on, Courfeyrac, the taxi’s here.”

Courfeyrac pouts.

“Drink that water.”

Courfeyrac nods and pats Combeferre’s bicep again. It might be the best bicep he’s ever touched.

“You’re very good. Thank you.”

Combeferre laughs quietly at him, and Courfeyrac lets out a tiny sigh, before rattling off his address to the taxi driver, and turning to wave at Combeferre out of the window.

Combeferre waves back, then turns to join his date inside. He’s half sitting on the table, staring into the distance, and from this angle the light is nearly dim enough for Combeferre to pretend there’s a residual flush in the tips of his ears, and laugh lines around his eyes and mouth.

He shakes off the lingering longing that Courfeyrac always spikes in him, and strides over to his date, determined to make his evening amazing, even if Combeferre is hung up on the most unattainable guy he could find. Meh. He has a talent for things like that. At least he’s fucking _amazing_ at pleasing his partners. His date cowers a tiny bit as Combeferre leans down, fire in his eyes and his date finally in his arms. His date kisses back, a little too domineering and a little too messily, and Combeferre strokes his hands along his shoulders, down to the top of his ass and back up to his waist. Combeferre pulls back a bit, trapped by his date’s arms around his neck, and then pushes back, kissing him gently, chastely on the lips, then whispering;

“Shall we?”

With a nod towards his apartment. His date seems to lose all air in his lungs for a second, before he nods. Combeferre leads him to the door, unrestrainedly proud that he pulled the mood back into something heated and sensual, but regretting bringing him back to his apartment, knowing that tomorrow, he’ll need to be alone to regroup and reconsider the ‘getting over Courfeyrac’ plan. He pulls his date back into a kiss, and decides to worry about that tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yep, drunk Courfeyrac is the biggest asshole in the entire world, because drunk Courfeyrac just keeps drinking, and now hungover Courfeyrac has a headache to _end all ages._ He’s also relatively sure that that doesn’t make any sense, but his head hurts too much for him to actually think about words. 

He can, however, bring himself to care about Combeferre’s date that he _crashed_ and possibly _ruined_ yesterday.

What an asshole.

He’s gonna have to send them apology flowers.

And possibly a box of apology condoms.

Maybe that would be too forward.

Maybe he should wait until he’s fully functioning.

Nah.

 

He texts Enjolras, asking to meet him at Combeferre’s coffee shop, and goes to get a bunch of flowers. He debates for a little while about writing ‘sorry about the sex’ on the card, but eventually decides it makes him sound like he’s not very good at sex, and Courfeyrac likes to believe he’s very good at sex. So. ‘Sorry’ would have to suffice.

When he gets to the coffee shop, he nearly walks directly into Grantaire.

“Hey, Grantaire! What a coincidence, Enjolras and I are going for coffee, come join us!”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow at him, and Enjolras sits down next to Grantaire, and his hand lands on top of Grantaire’s where it’s lying on the table. Grantaire looks at their hands, Enjolras’ slim pale hand on top of his square, hairy and yellow-y tan hand, and his eyes soften to the point Courfeyrac might actually get cavities just by looking at them. Enjolras tears his hand away from Grantaire’s, scratches his face, and puts is hand back down on the table, about three centimetres from Grantaire’s. Grantaire’s right eyebrow twitches a bit. Courfeyrac definitely judges them.

Courfeyrac decides to be as subtle as possible. “Enjolras, did you do the thing?” He asks, tipping his head in Grantaire's direction.

Enjolras scowls.

Courfeyrac grins. Nailed it.

Grantaire flicks his eyes between them quickly, before giving up at paying attention and burying himself in his coffee, his eyes fixed on Enjolras’ hand, still lying next to his.

“I’m building up to it.” Enjolras says pointedly, then pointedly raises his eyebrow and pointedly looks at Combeferre. Courfeyrac frowns. Enjolras isn’t normally so pointy.

“Well... I tried to come ask him out yesterday, but he was with a date. I ended up crashing it and making him call me a taxi, then it’s all a bit of a blur from then on.”

“You told me I’m ‘very good’.”

Courfeyrac jumps, nearly _out of his skin_ , and turns to see Combeferre glaring at Enjolras.  “Did I say very good at what?”

“No. But you did spend about five minutes patting my bicep.”

Courfeyrac can feel the blush spreading up his neck. That does sound like something he’d do.

Behind him, Enjolras laughs, and Courfeyrac hears him hit Grantaire’s shoulder. Or thigh. Enjolras seems to be losing all concept of boundaries with Grantaire, so he could have just groped Grantaire and Courfeyrac wouldn’t be surprised.

What is surprising is Combeferre’s expression, turning from sceptical to ‘it’s time to fucking stop whatever you’re doing because the fires of hell are about to rain down on you.’

Courfeyrac is oddly simultaneously scared and turned on.

This is why he likes Combeferre.

“Excuse me.” Combeferre’s voice has gone all flat and dangerous, too. Courfeyrac is appreciating it, at the same time as stepping the hell out of the way so Combeferre can address Enjolras without barriers or curly hair in the way.

Enjolras pulls his gaze away from Grantaire to look at Combeferre. It looked like a real struggle. Courfeyrac can relate.

“Don’t you think it’s rude to be flirting with an attractive man right in front of your boyfriend?” Combeferre says, and Enjolras, Grantaire and Courfeyrac’s jaws all drop slightly.

“You-“

They all start.

“ _-_ think we’re _flirting_ -“

“-think I’m _attractive_ -“

“-think he’s my _boyfriend?_ ”

They all finish.

Courfeyrac is staring at Combeferre.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

Enjolras is staring at Grantaire.

“You are attractive?”

The statement turns into a question at the end, as Grantaire meets Enjolras’ eyes, and he projects confusion at Enjolras.

Realisation floods Enjolras’ face, and he whispers to himself, “holy shit, I _am_ flirting.”

Combeferre watches their exchange with a furrow between his eyebrows, and pushes his glasses a little further up his nose. He turns his gaze back to Courfeyrac, then promptly turns and drags Courfeyrac into the break room.

“Why were you here yesterday?”

“Uhm.”

“If Enjolras isn’t your boyfriend, and you don’t even drink coffee that much, why are you two here so much?”

Courfeyrac bites his lip, and watches the way Combeferre tracks the movement, and his eyes darken.

“Well. Platonic relationships are important, and if I didn’t force him to eat, Enjolras just wouldn’t.”

Combeferre takes a half step forward. “Why were you here yesterday?”

Courfeyrac closes his eyes, because if he looks at Combeferre while he says this, he’s going to end up literally climbing him. Like a tree. But sexy.

“I have this dumb crush on you, ever since Marius got nervous and talked to you in Bengali, and you responded _in Bengali_. And well. My friends got sick of me pining over you, and recounting every detail of our interactions to anyone who would listen-“

“-we spend three hours talking last Thursday, did you tell them all of that?-“

Courfeyrac makes a little shushing noise and blindly put his hands out, “-so I came to ask you out, but then you were kissing that guy, and I assumed you had someone, and you just like me because I look a hell of a lot like him-“

Combeferre snorted, and Courfeyrac felt him take Courfeyrac’s still outstretched hands, and put them on his waist. When a wall of heat steps closer, and is nearly pressed up against Courfeyrac’s front, he squints open one eye, and his hands twitch on Combeferre’s work shirt. He keeps them as still as possible, and tries to restrain himself from melting into Combeferre’s front.

“I was trying to get over you.”

Courfeyrac opens both eyes.

“I picked up that guy, and only noticed how similar you are after you literally fell through the door.”

Courfeyrac raises his eyebrows.

“Cool.”

Combeferre laughs, his eyes scrunching up. Courfeyrac thinks he might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“That’s all you’re saying? Cool?”

“Well I was going to ask if I can kiss you now, but if you’re going to sass me...”

Combeferre’s smile softens, and turns _smouldering._ Courfeyrac shudders.

Combeferre leans down, urging Courfeyrac up with hands on the small of his back, so Courfeyrac is on his tiptoes, desperate for more of Combeferre’s mouth, more of Combeferre’s hands, more of Combeferre’s everything.

Combeferre smiles into the kiss. Courfeyrac kisses like he’d fit perfectly with Combeferre, submissive and desperate. Combeferre likes it when his partners are desperate for more of him. He makes a mental note to negotiate _thoroughly_ with Courfeyrac before they have sex. He wants this to be amazing.

And by the way Courfeyrac leans back and whispers “drunk me was right, you are very very very good.” He knows it definitely has the potential to be.

Screw it, it’s already amazing. He’s letting himself hope for once.

Even if the Enjolras thing was a bit embarrassing.

Still entwined in his arms, Courfeyrac kisses the underside of his jaw, still on his tiptoes.

“You owe me a date tonight.”

Combeferre grins.”You’re on.”

Courfeyrac leads him out to where they left Grantaire and Enjolras, and they find them talking quietly, their foreheads close together and their gazes on each others lips. Quietly, Combeferre hears Enjolras say “I know I said it usually takes me a long time, but Grantaire, I have to do this.” Then press his lips to Grantaire’s.

He hears Grantaire make a tiny noise, then sees him close his eyes and look like he’s having a religious experience.

Combeferre cheers in his head.

Courfeyrac cheers out loud, so Combeferre joins in a bit.

Enjolras leans back, a smile in his eyes, and turns to Courfeyrac.

“You know I’m gonna tell him the frogs story.”

Combeferre watches a blush begin on Enjolras’ cheeks- the first he’s ever seen- and all the colour drain from Courfeyrac’s face, and he’s hit with the knowledge that he’s probably bitten off more than he can chew.

But to be honest, he can’t bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me if I messed up spelling or something  
> and for a change, there are no explicitly nonbinary characters in this
> 
> enjolras is still greyaroaceagender sorry i don't make the rules


End file.
